Scandal's Reward (21 page)

He had known at the time how he had been found, and that he must somehow be involved and had foundered. Milly Trumble had died all alone at the lake, while he lay in the woods with a bottle. That his grandfather and uncle had thought that he was also her lover hadn’t mattered at all compared to the enormity of that. Why? Why had he failed her? He must find out! John Catchpole was his only hope.

In the meantime, there was Kate Hunter. He had never met anyone like her, but unless he could first clear his name, he must give her up.

When he returned to the Rose and Crown, he went straight to Annie’s room. Catherine still sat where he had left her.

As he entered, she leapt up. “I think I have behaved abominably, sir,” she said.

“Have you? I’m not sure how you can think so. Does Annie still sleep?” He went to the bed and checked the little girl’s pulse and forehead. He smiled at Catherine. “She will rest now until morning. I have asked the chambermaid to sit with her and engaged a private parlor for us. We have not had a proper meal since we arrived. You look like a positive ragamuffin, as usual. Go and change your dress, and we shall celebrate Annie’s recovery in style.”

Catherine looked down at her crumpled frock and gave him a rueful grin. It was the same dress she had traveled in. “I don’t have a change with me.”

He tossed her a package. “Here you are. I hope it fits. I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

It was closer to twenty minutes before Catherine was prepared. The pale amber silk fit her perfectly. Wherever in Marlborough had he found such a garment at such short notice? She brushed out her hair, coiled it at the nape of her neck and wove a white ribbon into it. No doubt some poor shopkeeper had fallen victim to that iron determination, and been forced to open his store. Without question, he had also been the object of enough charm to make him feel privileged to have done so.

She had no jewelry with her, but she knew she looked well. In spite of her exhaustion, Annie’s recovery had done wonders for her spirits and her color was high. Why not have dinner together? She owed him her little sister’s life, and had given him nothing but harsh words in exchange. Surely she could guard her heart, yet still be civil?

They went down the narrow stair, and the innkeeper showed them to a private dining room. As he opened the door and Dagonet began to usher Catherine inside, she was horrified to find that two ladies already sat at the table.

“What is the meaning of this? We asked for a private parlor,” the first began, raising heavily plucked brows. “We were just shown in here by the maid. Innkeeper! There must be some mistake.”

The innkeeper began to mumble and bow, but Catherine was not in the least concerned with his embarrassment. In order to quench her own, she was trying to back out of the room. It was too late. The other lady had turned her head and was looking at them, mouth agape.

“Miss Hunter! And Charles de Dagonet! I declare I shall faint!”

It was Charlotte Clay.

“Oh, how completely perfect!” Charlotte’s companion rose to greet them. Her sharp features were alight with mischief. “Here alone together? And so late at night? Were you not Lady Montagu’s companion, Miss Hunter? I have never had the pleasure of meeting the gentleman you are accompanying, but I am aware of him by reputation. I happened to see your name in the register, sir. I didn’t see yours, Miss Hunter. But, ‘Charles de Dagonet’: not an easy name to overlook. You had booked only the one room, sir, had you not? I am so pleased to make your acquaintance, after hearing so much about you. I am Lady Pander.”

Dagonet bowed over the hand she proffered. “My pleasure, my lady. Your reputation is also well established, of course.”

Charlotte Clay ignored these barbed pleasantries. “Whatever do you do here, sir? Oh, how dreadful! With Miss Hunter! And sharing a room! Have you lost all sense of the proprieties?”

“I might ask the same, Mrs. Clay. Your inquiry is indelicate, don’t you think? You are also delayed by the storm, I take it?”

“We are on our way to Bath, Mr. de Dagonet. And are quite trapped here, or I should leave this instant. You shall not turn aside my comments. I believe in plain speaking. You and Miss Hunter here together! What else is one to think? Everyone has been caught by this snow for days. Oh! If Mr. Clay should have lived to see the day when I should sleep under the same roof with such blatant indecency! My salts, Lady Pander! I am quite overcome.”

Catherine wished the floor would open and swallow her, amber silk, white ribbon and all. This was a disaster. Her reputation would never survive Charlotte’s account of this meeting at the Rose and Crown. Lady Pander would make sure it became the
on-dit
of the day. If it had been anyone else but Devil Dagonet, perhaps she could explain it away, but to be caught staying at an inn with a notorious rake, with no other chaperone than her little sister, was unpardonable. It would be humiliating for Amelia, too, who must now cope with these vicious gossips in high society. She could never live it down.

“Your concerns are all due to a misplaced sensibility, Charlotte. How could you think so ill of Lady Montagu’s friend?” It was Dagonet. His voice was bland with unconcern, but surely this time even he could not rescue her? Lady Pander and her friends would tear her reputation to shreds like a mouse in the claws of an eagle. How could he seem so relaxed? His expression was so open, she was totally unprepared for his next statement. “I have neglected to inform you of the happy event, dear cousin,” Dagonet went on in dulcet tones. “But Miss Hunter and I are married.”

Catherine turned to him, eyes blazing. Oh, this was even worse! “Whatever are you saying? We are not . . .”

He cut her off with a warning squeeze to the arm. “We are not telling anyone yet, is what my wife wishes to say. A quiet country wedding was better suited to our tastes. Until the event is formally announced, we know we can rely on your discretion, Charlotte, and Lady Pander’s is, of course, well known.”

Without letting go of her arm, he made polite good-byes and whisked Catherine out of the room. In the next instant he turned on the innkeeper, who had stood mouth agape throughout this exchange. “Now, sir, if you would kindly shown us to a parlor that is not already occupied, perhaps we can eat our dinner.”

At the whiplash in Dagonet’s tone, the innkeeper leapt to obey, cowering and mumbling apologies. A few minutes later, they were shown into an empty chamber and the door closed behind them. Dagonet leaned back against the polished wood and began to laugh. Furious, Catherine whirled on her companion.

“How dare you! How could you tell them we were married?” She stalked up and down the dining room. “It’s too absurd! The word will be all over Bath by the end of the week and all over London in two. Whatever possessed you?”

She turned and marched up to him. He stopped laughing and bowed, but his eyes were alight with a keen sense of the ridiculous.

“What word would you prefer passed from mouth to mouth by those busy ladies, Kate dear? That you are my wife or my mistress? There is no other choice, I’m afraid, thanks to some bungling inn maid.”

It was true, of course. No other interpretation could be put upon their presence here. Dagonet grinned at her. He appeared to keep his voice level with no effort at all. “If you prefer to be known as my mistress, you can deny our marriage, and it will make no difference. Just a little extra garnish to the story. Otherwise, we can be married without delay, and there will be no scandal.”

“How can you stand there so calmly and smile about it? This is beyond anything! I don’t want to marry you.”

“I’m sorry you find the idea so repulsive. It was, I admit, the opposite of my intention when we began this evening together. Nevertheless, I offer you my hand and heart, sweet Kate, and my disreputable name for what it’s worth.”

It was the most painful moment of her life. She could see that they were both trapped. It must be the last thing that he wanted, to be saddled with an impetuous girl that had already interfered too much in his life. Under any other circumstances, his proposal would have been the fulfillment of her heart’s desire. She was no longer under any illusion about her feelings for him, but she would not burden him with them, when they were not returned. Now he was being gallant, but he could not mean it.

As if he read her thoughts, he continued, “I do mean it. You can have no idea what you and your family will face if you are thought to be my mistress. It will not be possible to deny it and be believed. You will lose all respect and decent treatment. The world is full of vultures, Kate. Marry me, and they will think you misguided, but not wicked. I give you my word, it will be a marriage in name only. After a decent interval it can be annulled.”

How could she admit that if his motivation were any other than to save her reputation, she would not want a marriage in name only? She no longer believed him guilty of any wrong doing in the death of Millicent Trumble. Some other explanation was bound to be discovered if they could only get John Catchpole to tell his story. Dagonet was the finest man she was ever likely to meet. Could she now throw this generous gesture back in his face?

“I do appreciate your motives, sir. But surely there is some other way out?”

“There is none. If you are thought to have been my mistress, but return to London alone, I shall then be accused of abandoning you. That is, of course, no more than much of the
ton
would expect of me, thanks to my talkative cousins, but it will put David Morris in a dreadful spot. As your sister’s husband, he will probably feel obliged to call me out. He’s a very good friend; I would rather not face him on the dueling field.” She bit her lip, and he went on very gently. “There is also your father to consider. I think I owe him more than to ruin his eldest daughter.”

She smiled at him a little ruefully. “We’re both trapped, aren’t we, sir? I know you don’t really want to marry me, but I think I must accept your proposal.”

“Good, then that’s taken care of and we can have our dinner.”

He bowed over her hand and kissed her fingers, then rang the bell for the waiter.

Catherine could never fathom afterward, how she could then have sat across the table from him and enjoyed such a merry meal. Perhaps it was because of Annie. The full import of the danger to her sister and the final relief from it, bubbled up in her like champagne. Perhaps it was because Dagonet was simply the best dinner companion anyone could wish for. His wit had, after all, entertained the Prince Regent and Beau Brummel. She gave back as good as she got, however, and when at last he escorted her to her room, and left to relieve the inn maid from her watch over Annie, she felt quite reconciled to being Mrs. de Dagonet, even if in name only.

The next morning the snow began to melt, and travelers began to leave the Rose and Crown in droves. Lady Pander and Mrs. Clay presumably continued their journey to Bath, where the news of Catherine’s marriage could be expected to spread with great rapidity. Catherine gave them no more thought. Annie was much recovered, but still weak, and would come back to London with her sister. The child had forgotten nothing that Dagonet had told her. She insisted that George must also have drowned Millicent Trumble. All that Dagonet could tell her of his being reliably known to have been elsewhere could not convince her otherwise.

Catherine meanwhile had to give thought to facing her father. A message had earlier been sent to Exmoor and in a few days, the Reverend Hunter arrived. She need not have been so concerned. After spending an hour closeted with Dagonet in a private parlor, the vicar announced himself content with the decision.

“It is not how I imagined marrying my eldest daughter, my dear, but you are in safe hands with Charles.”

“Then you think he is innocent?”

“I have always believed him innocent. I knew him as a boy, remember? But until it’s all cleared up, the suspicion is like a poison spring at the center of his being and he is being destroyed by it. You can’t allow it to happen, Catherine. Exmoor and Lion Court need him. He can’t be allowed to go to waste.”

“He’s indifferent to me, Papa, but I’ll do what I can.”

She put her arms around her father and hugged him. As soon as Dagonet could obtain a special license Reverend Hunter married them himself.

Dagonet had hired a comfortable four-horse chaise to take them back to London, while his tiger slowly brought the phaeton up behind. Annie slept much of the way, her head pillowed on Catherine’s lap.

“Well, sir,” Catherine commented lightly to Dagonet as they pulled away from Marlborough. “What now?”

“You will return to Brooke House, dear Kate, with Annie. I have John Catchpole to hunt down. I do not imagine that he is still to be found in Lower Hobb Lane in Whitechapel, but he has probably not gone too far. This time, however, I would prefer not to have your assistance.”

“Now that we are man and wife, sir, do you not think I have an interest in proving your innocence?”

“If that is what is to be proved,” he said with a wry smile. “You have just sworn to honor and obey, Madame de Dagonet. My first orders are that you do not interfere again with our unpleasant Mr. Catchpole.”

“But you do not expect me to keep the promises made under duress, sir. I do not take orders from you. I also swore to love. You do not mention that.”

“Because love cannot be ordered, ma’am,” he said. “Whereas obedience can.”

Annie listened to this exchange with interest. She had woken up several minutes before. There was no polite way she could let her sister and her hero know that she had eavesdropped, so she stayed on the rocking coach seat, with her head in Catherine’s lap, without moving.
Cathy may be forbidden to interfere
, she thought as she allowed herself to drift back to sleep,
but I’m not, and I’m going to show that Sir George Montagu is the villain
.

Captain David Morris, now Lord Brooke, returned to the city to find that his friend was indeed married to Amelia’s sister, but that nothing else seemed to have changed. Dagonet still kept his bachelor apartment, and Catherine was still a guest at Brooke House. David knew better, however, than to question such an odd arrangement. No one else knew of it. Not George, to whom the news of the marriage came like a thunderbolt. Nor Lady Montagu, who thought the whole thing very shocking, and wondered if her one-time companion had lost her mind.